Switch
by ShakNali
Summary: Jules Verne has been kidnapped by the League of Darkness. Before Count Gregory can carry out his latest scheme, Verne's friends come to his rescue, but then things go awry.
1. Chapter 1

SWITCH

Description: Jules has been kidnapped by the League of Darkness (don't they have anything better to do?). Before Count Gregory can carry out his latest scheme, the others come to rescue Verne, but things go awry ….

Comments: This was going to be a much shorter story - get the heroes in trouble, get them out - but once I got them into trouble, they insisted on having their say before resolving things. Also, please note that this was written to have the feel of watching the show, rather than reading a book, so there is less descriptive detail and some chapters are rather short.

Disclaimer: Phileas Fogg and Passepartout belong to the real Jules Verne, and they, plus Rebecca Fogg, the fictional Jules Verne, Chatsworth and the Count belong to whoever owns the rights to the TV series. The other characters are mine, thank you. I expect no profit from any of this; it's just for fun.

- 1 -

"Phileas?" Rebecca's voice preceded her down the hallway of Phileas Fogg's London townhouse. Passepartout jumped to open the bedroom door in time for her to sail through. Phileas, absorbed in arranging his cravat, ignored the intrusion.

"Have you seen Jules?" she asked.

"Hmm?" said Phileas, studying his reflection. "I don't like this pin, Passepartout. The ruby, I think."

"Yes, Master." Passepartout started to hand the tie-pin to Fogg, but Rebecca intercepted it, holding it just out of her cousin's reach.

"Passepartout, my pin." Looking around for his valet, Phileas finally noticed Rebecca. "Rebecca? May I have my pin please?"

"Now that I have your attention," she replied, moving instead to place it precisely in the folds of his cravat, "have you seen Jules?"

"Verne? Not today. Why?"

"I can't find him."

"He's probably off exploring London," Phileas replied unconcernedly as Passepartout helped him into his coat. "He wanted to see the City on his own." He straightened his cuffs and headed for the door. "I shouldn't worry. He'll show up."

"Yes, but he was engaged to meet me this morning," she countered. "We had a date to ride in the park."

That stopped Fogg in his tracks and he turned to look at her. Jules Verne might want a bit of a break from his wealthy friends in order to see the less fortunate side of the city, but he would _never_ voluntarily break an appointment with Rebecca.

"Passepartout, when was Verne last home?" he asked sharply. Jules had been given a room in the townhouse to use whenever he was in London.

"Two days ago, Master," replied the Frenchman, looking worried. "I thinking he finds friends to stay with so I am not mentioning it."

"Two days? A lot could happen in two days," Rebecca said. "Jules has a positive talent for getting into trouble."

Phileas sighed. "I suppose if we're going to comb the back streets of London in search of the boy I'd better change into something a little less conspicuous. And I had just gotten this cravat done perfectly."

Rebecca sighed as well and shook her head.


	2. Chapter 2

- 2 -

Jules Verne awoke in his cell. There was no window, so he wasn't sure what time of day it was, but his stomach was demanding food. He tried to remember when he'd last eaten but everything was mixed up in his mind. He shook his head to clear it, regretting it immediately as pain lanced through his skull. His escape attempt - was it yesterday or just hours ago? - had resulted in nothing but more bruises to his body and a large lump on the back of his head. He sat up cautiously on the narrow cot and was dismayed to discover that his left leg was now chained to the wall. It looked like he would not get another chance to try an escape.

Looking around his dimly lit room, he saw a tray of food on the floor next to his bed. He picked it up - water, a few slices of bread, a little meat. No utensils - so he couldn't use them to try anything, he figured. He put the meat between the bread and ate while he tried to think.

Jules had been down in the dock area of London. Someone had told him that there was a pub there where he might meet other writers. He'd found the place - rather inappropriately called The White Swan, given its grimy, rundown atmosphere. He hadn't liked the feel of it when he entered - so very different from the cheerful bistros where he met with his friends in Paris. Still, he'd gone in and ordered a drink, then sat at a table near the wall nursing it and trying to identify anyone who might be a fellow writer. After that, things got fuzzy. He supposed, glumly, that his drink had been drugged. He'd awakened here, a captive - again - of the League of Darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

- 3 -

"This is insupportable!" exclaimed Rebecca. "We've been searching all morning and haven't found any trace of Jules."

They had gone in different directions upon leaving the townhouse, questioning people along the streets. Phileas had gone to several museums and libraries, hoping to find someone to whom Verne might have spoken for suggestions of places to go. Rebecca had been to the police and gone so far as to check with area hospitals and, reluctantly, the morgue. All to no avail. Phileas poured himself a drink and lifted the decanter with a questioning look at Rebecca. She nodded, so he poured a glass for her and they sat down to review their progress - or rather, the lack of it.

Suddenly the door burst open and Passepartout rushed in, more incoherent than usual in his excitement. It took a sharp word from Fogg to calm the Frenchman enough to tell them what he had found out.

"I am thinking," he said, "of Master Jules and how he might be looking for places to go. So I am wondering, how would he find them?"

"We know that, Passepartout," interrupted Phileas impatiently. "That's what we've been trying to find out all day." Rebecca shushed him and gestured for Passepartout to continue.

"Suddenly I am remembering the flower girl." Fogg started to interrupt again but Rebecca warned him with a look to be quiet. "The flower girl on the corner, Master," the valet explained. "She is being there every morning. I have seen Master Jules speaking with her. He bought flowers for you there, Miss Rebecca." Rebecca remembered the bunch of violets Jules had presented to her a few days earlier and nodded. "So I talk to the girl. She is very not wishing to discuss Master Jules, but I am insisting and she finally tells me," he paused dramatically and Phileas fought the impulse to shake him. "She tells me that a man is giving her money to telling Master Jules to go to a place called the Swan White to meet English writers."

He stopped, satisfied with the look on both Foggs' faces. Phileas said warmly, "Well done, Passepartout," then looked at Rebecca. "The White Swan. I haven't heard of it. You?"

She frowned, searching her memory. "Yes," she replied slowly. "I know one pub by that name. It's in a bad part of town, though, down by the docks. I can't imagine any writers frequenting it - it's a rough sailors' place. Why would someone want Jules to go there?"

"There's one way to find out," said Phileas.


	4. Chapter 4

- 4 -

Verne had eaten and was laying back on his cot when two guards came for him. They unchained him and took him by the arms down a long hallway to another room. There he was tied to a chair and they took places to either side of the door. Several minutes passed and then he heard the sound he had been dreading since he'd recognized the uniforms of the guards. A moment later Count Gregory rolled into the room.

"Ah, the young genius," rasped the hideous creature.

"Whatever you want," began Jules defiantly, "I don't intend to help you."

"What you _intend_ is of no importance," the Count sneered. "Your - cooperation - is not required for what I have in mind."

Jules looked at him, suddenly afraid to ask the obvious question - what _did _the Count want from him? The monster rolled close and peered at Jules, who tried unsuccessfully to hide his disgust.

"Can't bear to look at me? Well, you won't have that problem for long. Do you want to know why? No answer? I'll tell you anyway. Soon, this will be _your_ body. Yes," he cackled at the horror on Verne's face. "Your mind and mine are going to switch bodies and then you won't ever have to look at this face again - unless you use a mirror!"

"No!" cried Jules, struggling vainly against the ropes.

"Tomorrow," decreed Gregory. "See that he is fed and rested," he instructed the guards as he left the room. "I want my new body to be in good shape when I take it over. It will be good to be young and vigorous again." Verne could hear his nasty, triumphant laughter echoing down the hallway.

The guards pulled the resisting Frenchman back to his room. Jules fought as best he could, but to no avail. This time he was tied to the bed so that he could not hurt himself. Left alone, he could do little but contemplate the awful future the Count had planned.


	5. Chapter 5

- 5 -

It had taken the full combination of Rebecca's charm, Phileas' money and both their unyielding personalities to convince anyone at the White Swan to admit having seen which way Jules had been taken when he passed out from the drugged drink. The sailor's account of the two men who'd taken their friend did nothing to reassure the Foggs. They recognized his description of the League of Darkness uniforms, which could only be bad news.

Then they began the search in earnest. Finally, well past midnight, they admitted exhaustion and stumbled back to the townhouse for a brief rest. Before dawn, however, the trio was at Secret Service Headquarters, checking on the warehouse area where they'd lost the trail. It took nearly an hour to find information which suggested a particular building, and they immediately headed there. Chatsworth, concerned that Count Gregory might actually be in London, insisted on sending two agents with them. Phileas started to refuse but Rebecca pointed out that there was no time to argue and he acquiesced.

At first glance, the building was no different from its neighbors, but as they watched they saw two guards patrolling the perimeter. Agents Warwick and Ajax were tasked with taking them out and providing backup, while the Foggs and Passepartout rescued Verne.

Meanwhile, Count Gregory's men had brought Jules to the laboratory. He was strapped securely into a chair and a metal helmet placed on his head. Jules tried to reason with the scientist who was operating the equipment, but the man refused to listen and finally ordered him gagged. Helpless to do anything, the young man watched every move the scientist made, intrigued by the equipment in spite of himself.

Suddenly there was a commotion in the hallway outside. A moment later Phileas, Rebecca and Passepartout rushed into the room. The scientist attempted to block Rebecca's path while Phileas and Passepartout fought the two guards, but soon all three members of the League were unconscious. Passepartout kept watch at the door while the other two tried to free Jules. The metal bands wouldn't budge, however, and Rebecca moved to the control panel to see if there was a button to release them. Jules tried to speak but the gag muffled his voice.

"Not to worry, Verne," Phileas reassured him in a low voice, leaning over to loosen the cloth. "We'll have you out of here in no time."

Even as he spoke, Rebecca pushed one of the buttons on the machine. Suddenly, briefly, blue light arced between the helmet and Phileas' head. Both men jerked violently, then Jules slumped in the chair as Phileas fell to the floor. Rebecca cried out and she and Passepartout rushed to them, relieved to find them both alive, although unconscious. Rebecca jumped when the door pushed open, but it was only the other two agents. They finally freed Jules from the chair and Warwick slung Verne over his shoulder while Passepartout did the same with his master. With Rebecca leading the way and Ajax guarding the rear, they cautiously made their escape, hiding several times from searching guards before they were free of the building. They made their way to the waiting carriage a few blocks away and headed for the townhouse.

Once there, they laid Phileas and Jules on couches in the sitting room. Neither had awakened and Rebecca only managed to remain calm - at least outwardly - because Passepartout was so upset. She thanked the agents for their assistance, assured them that she would report to Chatsworth later and sent them on their way.


	6. Chapter 6

- 6 -

Passepartout knelt and administered smelling salts to Jules. Rebecca, with Phileas' in her lap, tried cool water on his brow and face, since she knew he detested the salts.

"Phileas? Phileas! Wake up!" urged Rebecca.

"I am awake," came the somewhat groggy reply from the other couch. "Get that smell away from me, Passepartout. What on earth happened? We were trying to free Verne… Rebecca? Why are you two looking at me like that?"

Passepartout stared open-mouthed at the figure struggling to sit up next to him. "M-master?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh - Good - Lord." Rebecca rose and took two steps toward him. "Phileas?" she peered intently into Jules Verne's brown eyes. "Is that you?"

"Of course it is." But his usual clipped tones came out differently the other man's voice and he faltered. "Isn't it?" Rebecca looked instinctively over her shoulder and he followed her gaze. He gasped and staggered to his feet. Rebecca supported him as he moved to look at - himself - just as Jules awoke. Dazed brown eyes looked into perplexed green eyes.

"What? I don't understand…?" Jules started visibly at the sound of his - or rather, Fogg's - voice and Phileas winced.

Faced with the unthinkable, Rebecca fell back on the familiar English remedy for calamity. "Passepartout - tea," she ordered.


	7. Chapter 7

- 7 -

A little while later found them finishing the tea and sandwiches Passepartout provided. They'd eaten quietly, each caught up in his own thoughts. Phileas and Jules avoided speaking or looking at each other at all. Passepartout kept stumbling over what to call them and finally gave up, passing plates and refilling cups in unaccustomed silence. Rebecca's gaze switched back and forth between them and since the others were preoccupied no-one noticed the gleam in her eyes and the occasional twitch of her lips.

"Now," she said, as Passepartout cleared the dishes away. "I suppose we'll have to figure out what to do. That is, assuming you _want_ to get back into your own bodies?" she added with mock innocence.

Verne and Fogg leapt to their feet, side by side, exclaiming simultaneously.

"Rebecca, how could you even ask?"

"Of course we have to change back!"

She began to giggle. "If you could only see your faces! Oh, but of course you can!" she crowed and kept laughing. The two men looked at each other in dismay at her reaction, then they too began to chuckle as the absurdity of the situation sank in. Passepartout, returning from the kitchen, heard and wondered if the shock had been too much for them. Then the front door knocker sounded and he hastened to answer it.

"Your odd sense of humor will be the death of you someday, Rebecca," said Fogg. "We really do need to decide what to do next."

"We need to get back to the machine and reverse this," Jules' French accent sounded decidedly odd in Phileas' voice. "I watched the scientist who was running it and I think I can figure it out."

"The problem is that Count Gregory and his playmates will have cleared out of that warehouse by now," mused Rebecca. "We _will_ track them down - but how long will it take? And just what do we do with you two in the meantime?"

"We'll help look for the League of Darkness of course!" said Jules indignantly. "I admit to feeling a little-" he glanced at his body standing next to him "disoriented, but I can still use my mind!"

"Rebecca isn't questioning our faculties," replied Phileas. "Only consider this - I might possibly be able to masquerade as you here in London, but you can hardly go about as me." His eyes widened suddenly. "Which reminds me. I was about to go out when this started yesterday. I had an appointment with…"

"Lady Barbara Sheridan," announced Passepartout. The others looked up, startled, as a beautiful blonde swept into the room. She headed directly for Verne, who was frozen in place. Phileas began to speak and Rebecca instantly clapped a hand over his mouth. He looked daggers at his manservant, who shrugged and held up his palms in an "I couldn't stop her" gesture.

"My dear Phileas," she cooed, placing a hand on Jules' arm and looking up at him. "I simply had to come and see why you didn't keep our engagement yesterday. Your man says you're not well?" Her eyes traveled his length and she added suggestively, "You look fine to me…"

"I…I - uh …" stammered Jules, looking frantically to the others for help.

Rebecca came to the rescue, dropping her hand from Phileas' mouth and stepping forward. "Poor Phileas," she said as the other woman turned reluctantly toward her. "He has a terrible case of laryngitis. Can hardly speak at all." Then giving in to temptation, she added, "I don't believe you've met our friend, Jules Verne, from France?"

Phileas cast her a glance promising retribution and bowed over the hand Lady Barbara held out. "Mademoiselle," he murmured. She nodded briefly and turned back to Verne.

"You can't speak at all? Well, you won't need to speak tonight." Jules' eyes widened and she added, pouting slightly, "You haven't forgotten the Duchess' ball? You promised to be my escort." Again he looked at Rebecca and Phileas, but Barbara said a little sharply, "Surely you don't need your cousin's permission to go out!" and when he automatically shook his head she said with satisfaction, "Then I will expect you to pick me up promptly at 8." She nodded slightly to Rebecca and Phileas and then swept back out of the room, with Passepartout following to see her out.

Phileas rounded on Jules. "What are you thinking agreeing to go with her?!" he demanded.

"I… I didn't mean to," Jules replied, still looking rather dazed. "She … it just sort of happened." He looked beseechingly at them. "I don't really need to go, do I?"

"Of course you do," snapped Fogg. "You - _I _-can hardly stand her up twice. It would be unpardonably rude."

"But I won't know anyone!" he protested. "And I don't know how to dance, either! Not - not like you."

Rebecca, bemused, watched the two men arguing. It was amazing to see the differences in them. Jules' body stood quite erect and controlled, while Fogg's body gestured with Verne's youthful abandon. Hearing the two voices arguing in the other's tones and styles made her almost dizzy.

"If you insist that Jules go to the ball tonight," she broke in, "you'll have to coach him enough so that he can get by." She patted each one briefly on the cheek as she headed for the door. "At least you won't have to call anyone by name. You can't speak, remember? I'm sure that Lady Barbara will - enjoy - taking care of you." She cast a mischievous look at Phileas, who seemed torn between exasperation and frustration. "I'm sorry Phileas, but you've always said I have an overdeveloped sense of the ridiculous. If this whole situation isn't ridiculous, what is?"

As she opened the door Phileas called, "Wait, Rebecca, where are you going?"

She turned. "While _you_ are teaching Jules how to dance _I_ am going to find the League of Darkness so we can put you both back where you belong." And with a wave of the hand she was gone.

The two men looked uncomfortably at each other and Phileas groaned. "Well, let's get started," he said in a resigned voice. "Passepartout! Music, if you please."


	8. Chapter 8

- 8 -

Rebecca returned to the warehouse, and as she expected there was no sign of the League of Darkness. She combed it carefully for clues, but it had been stripped bare. She then went to Headquarters to talk to Chatsworth. He listened carefully to her, having already heard Agents Warwick and Ajax's reports. When she described the results of the rescue he had to hide a grin behind his hand. Even though he realized the serious implications, it had never been a secret that he and Fogg didn't like each other and it amused him to think of the intimidating Phileas Fogg in such a predicament. Still, he had to agree with Rebecca that Count Gregory must not be allowed to maintain possession of such a machine and he put the full resources of the Secret Service at her disposal to search for it.

For the rest of the day Rebecca and Chatsworth dispatched agents to various parts of London, sent messages to agents around the country and on the Continent, and did everything possible to push the search for traces of the League of Darkness. Finally there was nothing more that could be done until results came from the field. Patience was not Rebecca's strong suit - she was used to being in the thick of the action. Her idea of waiting was to pace about the building, asking Chatsworth every few minutes if there had been word, and proposing increasingly outlandish plans for locating the Count. Finally, Chatsworth had had enough and ordered her to go home before he lost his temper.

She arrived at the townhouse to find that Phileas, Passepartout and Jules had kept occupied in her absence. Phileas had drilled Jules unmercifully in more than the proper dances. How and when to stand and sit, how to bow and to whom, what and how to eat and drink, when to smile and not, who would probably be there, whom he might ask to dance and whom to avoid… The details seemed endless and Fogg was an exacting taskmaster, but it did help keep their minds off of the larger problem.

They looked up anxiously at her arrival, but she shook her head. "Nothing yet," she said crisply. "We've sent word throughout the kingdom and to the Continent to immediately report any signs of Count Gregory or the League of Darkness. It's just a matter of time now. How have things gone here?" she added, to distract them.

"Slowly," replied Phileas. "But now that you're here, perhaps you'd dance with Verne. I think Passepartout could use a break."

Rebecca grinned at the thought and gracefully accepted Jules' hand. Phileas had partnered her many times and she now found it disconcerting to dance with his body, knowing that he wasn't in it. Still, Jules did quite well, and she hoped that other women wouldn't notice the difference or would put it down to his 'illness'.

"How are you managing?" she asked him as they moved into a second dance.

"I never realized how much you had to know just to go to a party," said Jules. "How do you remember it all?"

"We just grew up with it," she mused. "No, to the left… that's it. If you've done this all your life it's not that difficult. I hardly even think about it. Besides, I don't go to these types of affairs more than necessary."

They went through several dances and reviewed Jules' party manners again with Rebecca, Phileas and Passepartout playing various roles. Finally it was time to stop. Passepartout and Fogg bore Verne away to get him properly dressed for the ball. Rebecca also retired to her room to change for the evening. Although they lived separately, she and Phileas each had a room and kept several changes of clothes at the other's house. Rebecca toyed with the idea of accompanying Jules, but she had not been invited and she doubted that Lady Barbara would be pleased at her company. No, Jules would have to muddle through on his own.

She came back down to find the men ahead of her. Fogg was straightening Verne's cravat minutely and murmuring last-minute reminders. She stopped unnoticed on the stairs, surprised by the depth of her feelings. Of course she loved Phileas and was very fond of Jules, but it was always in the background, something that she rarely thought about consciously. Humor gone, she relived the horror of that brief instant in Count Gregory's laboratory when she'd thought them both dead. She'd been too busy since then to reflect on it, but at this moment she realized that life without them would be unbearable. Then Phileas glanced up and saw her, and she remembered to breathe again and came down the stairs.

They saw Verne off with a last admonition from Phileas, "For God's sake, if it gets too much plead illness and come home." Rebecca told him he looked magnificent and kissed him on the cheek, which buoyed him up until he reached Lady Barbara's mansion.


	9. Chapter 9

- 9 -

Later, Jules commented that as uncomfortable as he'd been imprisoned by Count Gregory, it was certainly rivaled in its own way by that evening.

First there were the formal clothes. The suit that Fogg had 'lent' to him on the few occasions he'd accompanied them to social affairs had been well-made, but now Jules realized it had also been less rigorously cut. Fogg's dress clothes fit so precisely that it took much of Passepartout's skill to get them on him, and moving naturally in them was a challenge to Jules. Verne made a mental note to thank Phileas sometime for giving him clothes that were presentable but still relatively comfortable to wear.

Then there was Lady Barbara. He'd been instructed on how to behave with her, but Jules was apprehensive about trying to convince her that he was actually Phileas Fogg. The man had an air about him, a presence that had nothing to do with speaking. She did look at him curiously once or twice in the carriage, but seemed to put the difference down to his claimed indisposition. At one point her comments made him wonder just how close she and Phileas were and if she expected him to do more than see her to her door at the end of the evening, but he just smiled and pretended not to hear her.

He forgot those discomforts when they arrived at the party, however, in desperately trying to remember everything he'd learned that day. His supposed laryngitis saved him from quite a bit, and surprisingly he came to appreciate Lady Barbara's presence. Her proprietary air seemed to hold several of the women at a distance, and her frequent whispered remarks, although rarely kind, gave him clues as to who was who. He concentrated on not letting his uncertainty show on Fogg's face and on trying to behave as Phileas would have. He had one main concern for the evening - to be able to return to the townhouse knowing that he'd made no errors that would reflect badly on his friend.

The dancing wasn't too hard, after all. Fogg's body had a natural grace and Jules found that if he relaxed he remembered the steps well enough. He discovered (without surprise) that people, particularly women, were much more attentive to 'Fogg' than he'd experienced as Verne. He was briefly tempted to enjoy the difference, but then the lady called him "Phileas" and his innate morals prevented him from taking advantage of the situation.

Several times he was pulled aside by one small group of men or another for serious discussions on various matters. He was impressed with yet another hidden side of his friend and tried to listen carefully so he could report to Phileas. He was extremely grateful for not being able to speak, as he had no idea what Fogg would have said about the financial and political questions being discussed.

Finally, having somehow made it through a few hours, Jules had had enough. He was utterly exhausted, from the physical and emotional shock of the switch, from all the tutoring and from keeping up the charade. He gave Lady Barbara to understand that he intended to return home. Barbara was not pleased, but it would have looked bad for her to remain behind, and soon they had made their farewells. She pouted on the way home and to his relief did not try to persuade him to accompany her into her house.


	10. Chapter 10

- 10 -

Meanwhile, back at the townhouse, Phileas and Rebecca tried to get through the evening. They ate a light dinner, each going through the motions more for the other's sake than for hunger. Afterwards, they tried to play cards, but neither could concentrate so they quit. Phileas paced about the drawing room, remembering things he should have told Verne and predicting disaster. Rebecca put up with it for a while, but finally had enough.

"Nonsense," she interrupted sharply when he said for the fourth - or was it fifth? - time that the imposture was sure to be discovered. "London society doesn't move in our world, Phileas. They've never heard of Count Gregory or the League of Darkness and it would never occur to anyone that it is not you in your body."

She'd hoped to reassure him, but now he came and sat next to her and took her hands. Looking intently into her eyes, he asked, "Rebecca, do you see _me_ in here?"

Rebecca stared steadily back at him. Although it was Jules' face, she could see Phileas in his eyes. Because she knew him so well, she could also see the concern and, yes, the fear that he was keeping in check.

"Yes, Phileas, I do." She put a hand to his cheek. "You are still you, not matter what body you're in."

He closed his eyes and leaned against her palm for a moment. "Sometimes," he murmured, "I have not been sure who I was while I was in my _own_ body. Now…" He sighed, then stood suddenly and strode to the window. "Have you thought," he said, "about what will happen if we cannot find the machine? If we can't…" He stopped for a moment, head bowed. Rebecca could feel the tension in him from across the room. He took a deep breath and raised his head again to stare out at the darkness. "If we can't switch back, some sort of arrangements must be made. Perhaps go we'll back to Shillingworth Magna for a while…"

"We'll find the machine," she said as positively as she could, going to his side. "We'll get you both back in your proper bodies and…"

"But if we _don't_," he interrupted. He swung around and began to pace again. Rebecca found it disconcerting to watch Jules' body move with the tight control Phileas used to manage strong emotions. "Verne is a young man of tremendous promise and talent. He must be free to live _his_ life, not be forced to live as Phileas Fogg. God knows, one of us is enough."

"And what of you?" she asked quietly. He looked almost surprised at the question, as if his own fate had not much bothered him.

"I'll cope, Rebecca. I always have." He summoned a slight smile. "It might be interesting to be anonymous, have no particular responsibilities. Perhaps I'll travel the Continent, or go back to America…" His voice trailed off, then he visibly gathered himself. "No - what matters is seeing that Verne - and you - are taken care of. I…"

He broke off as Passepartout burst into the room and quickly delivered an envelope to Rebecca. Recognizing Chatsworth's handwriting, she tore it open.

"They have a lead!" she exclaimed excitedly. "A report from Scotland!" She paused for a moment to read. "It looks very promising - large group of people, lots of equipment… It may be just what we're looking for!"

She was so happy she hugged Phileas enthusiastically. Jules, entering the drawing room, saw them and stiffened, automatically stepping back and starting to close the door. How often had he wished for her to hold him like that? After the evening he had just endured, to come back and see Rebecca in 'his' arms was too much. As he hesitated, Passepartout looked up.

"Ah, Master - Jules! You are home" he cried, still stumbling slightly over the name. "We are having good news! I am just bringing to Miss Rebecca a letter from Mr. Chatsworth. Come in, come in!"

He flung the door open and ushered Jules in before he could protest. The Foggs separated at his entrance, both speaking at the same time.

"We've had word from headquarters." Rebecca waved the paper at him. "You look exhausted," she added. "How did it go?"

"What have you been doing with my body? You look awful," said Phileas more directly. "Sit down. Passepartout, get him a drink."

Jules allowed himself to be seated on the couch and a drink pressed into his hand. He took a sip and sighed. It was good to be back among his friends, away from all the strangers. Everyone else sat down and looked at him expectantly.

"I don't think anyone guessed that I wasn't you," he started, looking at Phileas. "Not being able to speak was a big advantage." He went on to describe the evening as best he could. Phileas questioned him on several points, then sat back a satisfied air.

"Well done, Verne," he said simply, and Jules suddenly felt better than he had in hours.

"What's in the letter from Chatsworth?" he asked.

Rebecca handed it to him. The report from the field had been brief, but was enough to convince the head of the Secret Service that Count Gregory had moved operations to a remote mansion in Scotland. Chatsworth instructed her to reply with a list of any assistance they wanted.

The quartet then sat down and made their plans. They would leave at first light in the _Aurora_. When they had compiled their list of requirements Passepartout dispatched one of the grooms to Headquarters with it. The boy soon returned with a message that all would be delivered in time for their departure. Chatsworth would also send notice to the field agent in Scotland to give them every assistance upon their arrival.

There was a brief awkwardness as they went to bed - Verne automatically headed for his room but Fogg stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"You'll sleep here tonight," he said firmly, nodding towards the master bedroom.

"I can't take your bed," Jules protested. "I'll be fine…"

Fogg interrupted him. "It will be too confusing for any of the other staff to find us in each other's rooms. Besides," he added lightly, "this will allow me to see if I've been a good host to you or not."

"Well, I suppose this _will_ be my only chance to play lord of the manor," Verne strove to match his tone. The two men smiled at each other and went to bed.


	11. Chapter 11

- 11 -

No one slept much that night, and they all rose early. The promised supplies arrived and were immediately loaded onto the _Aurora_. Wanting to get going without delay, they had decided to breakfast on the ship. Soon the dirigible lifted off in the pale grey light that preceded the dawn.

Once they were under way, Verne took over steering and Passepartout disappeared into the galley. He quickly prepared an excellent breakfast and came out to lay the table. It was odd to see his master's figure at the great globe that steered the ship, while Master Jules seemingly lounged on the sofa reading the _Times_. He wondered, not for the first time, what would happen to them all if the transfer could not be reversed. It didn't make as much difference to him; he was Phileas Fogg's valet and would continue to be, whatever body his master occupied. But how would Mr. Fogg continue in his position if he appeared to the world as Jules Verne? How could Master Jules return to his Paris garret looking like an English gentleman? And Miss Rebecca - he could tell what a strain this was on her. She hid it well, and preoccupied as they were he didn't know if other two had noticed. But he saw and could only think to ease it by giving his absolutely best service. Back in the galley he slipped a fresh-cut rose into a crystal vase to put at her place.

He came out bearing a tray loaded with their favorite foods and was rewarded by the appreciation on their faces. Rebecca touched a deep crimson petal of the rose and leaned forward to inhale the scent.

"My favorite, Passepartout," she exclaimed. "How lovely of you!"

He bobbed his head, finished unloading the tray and went to relieve Verne at steering. As he passed, Phileas murmured softly, "Thank you, Passepartout," and he realized that his master had also been aware all along. The reassurance that Fogg was still Fogg, no matter what his appearance, cheered Passepartout and he hummed under his breath as he gently adjusted their course.

It didn't take long for the airship to reach their destination. They set down in a field away from the small town and were soon met by the Secret Service agent there. Terence Robertson looked more like a farmer than an agent, and they learned that he actually owned a sheep farm while serving as Chatsworth's eyes and ears for the area on the side.

They tethered the _Aurora_ in a small valley to keep it out of casual sight and accompanied Robertson to his farm. He had maps of the area and quite a bit of information about the deserted mansion where it seemed Count Gregory now lurked. They were anxious to get going but Robertson disagreed.

"You can't go now," he said bluntly. "There's no cover right around the house and you can't possibly get near the place in daylight. You'll have to wait for dusk."

"Dusk!" Jules exclaimed. "But that's hours from now! They could leave by then or…"

"No-one will leave from there without my knowing," Robertson assured them. "Two of my shepherds are nearby with the flock. They'll send a pigeon at the first sign of anything happening."

"I hate to delay," said Rebecca, "but he's right. Look at the terrain on this map. They'd see us coming."

Fogg had the final word. "Right. We'll stay here and prepare to leave at the earliest moment."


	12. Chapter 12

- 12 -

Jules watched Phileas sparring with Rebecca in the large barn. Although Fogg's mind knew fencing, Verne's body did not and Fogg was trying to get accustomed to fighting with less than his usual mastery. It helped pass the hours until they could move on Gregory, and besides, they could not expect to simply walk in, make the switch and walk out again. There would undoubtedly be some fighting involved and Phileas wanted to be as prepared as possible.

It was still decidedly strange to see his body walking around without him, Jules mused. He thought back to his feelings when the Count had announced his devilish plan. His first concern hadn't been for the fate of the world or even what would happen to himself. No, the thoughts that had tortured him most during that long night had been of what would happen to Rebecca, Fogg and Passepartout. The Count would never have passed up the opportunity to kill them, and in Verne's body he would have had completely unguarded access to them. Jules shuddered to think what awful plots that twisted mind would have come up with in order to hurt and kill his friends. Suddenly he needed a break, and, remembering some bookshelves in the farmhouse, he went to find something to distract his mind for a while.

The pair broke off as he left, and Rebecca made to go after him, but Phileas stopped her.

"Give him some space, Rebecca," he said quietly. "He's had a lot to deal with. Let him have some time to himself."

"Phileas, what's it like?" she asked hesitantly. She wanted to know, but not at the risk of upsetting him.

He didn't pretend to misunderstand. "It's odd, Rebecca, very odd. You see yourself in the mirror every day, but this…" He gestured, searching for words. "Seeing my body there and yet it isn't me inside it. And then looking down and these hands, this body, are not mine. When I speak I hear a different voice. I can't really describe it." He paused and then added with sudden mischief, "Just be glad it wasn't you standing there, Rebecca. Imagine how that would have been!"

They laughed together for a moment. Then Phileas stepped back, took his position and said, "En guarde", and they began practice again.

In the farmhouse, Jules perused the titles on the shelves and was delighted to find some books by his friend Dumas. Selecting one at random, he settled down in a cushioned window-seat in the sun and began to read. It occurred to him at one point, that he must remember to tell Dumas all about his current adventure - when it was successfully completed. He had no doubt that the large Frenchman would find it highly amusing.

Work at the farm flowed around the four visitors as the day wore on. Passepartout ventured into the kitchen and assisted in preparing the noon-time meal. Afterwards, Verne nodded off over his book, curled up in the window-seat, for all the world like a cat, thought Rebecca as she silently backed out of the room. She mentioned it to Phileas and agreed with his suggestion that they retire to the _Aurora_ and do the same. There was no telling how long the night would be and they would need all their wits about them.

Late in the afternoon they gathered together again with Robertson and began to make plans. He was very knowledgeable about the area and provided excellent, detailed maps. He had even spoken to a local builder who had once done repairs to the house when it was still inhabited and had drawn up a rough layout of the building. By the time they left the farmhouse, everyone knew exactly how they were going to proceed at least up until entering the mansion. From that point on events would depend upon what they found.


	13. Chapter 13

- 13 -

It was nearing twilight when they finally left. Robertson provided horses for the first part of the journey. The men were dressed in dark shirts and pants, while Rebecca wore her customary leathers. Chatsworth had provided soft leather shoes for the party, which would provide traction but would make little sound. While still out of sight of the mansion, they stopped and dismounted. Telling them quietly to stay put, their host walked off through the woods. Shortly they heard a peculiar set of piercing whistles, answered almost immediately by two other, more distant sets. Mystified and somewhat alarmed by the sounds, they were relieved to see him return a couple of minutes later. He chuckled softly at their questions.

"Shepherds whistle to tell the dogs what to do," he explained. "We've developed it a little further as a way to communicate. No-one thinks anything of it if they hear it. My men tell me it's all clear. No-one has come or gone and guard patrols are light. We'll walk from here."

They left the horses tethered and followed him through the deepening dusk to the edge of the woods. One by one they followed Robertson's lead across the cleared ground, stopping briefly behind boulders or stumps that had been left behind. Finally, they reached the side of the house that lay in shadows from the rising moonlight.

Robertson's men had reported during the day that the guards patrolled at hourly intervals, so they waited anxiously as one passed by. Crouched in the shadow of a hay wagon, barely daring to breathe, they watched him greet his comrade, then turn and go back the way he'd come. The moment he turned the corner they moved. Fogg, Verne and Passepartout headed toward the barn, where the shepherds had seen most of the equipment placed. Meanwhile, Rebecca made brief work of the lock on the side door to the house, and she and Robertson slipped silently inside. Although switching the men back to their own bodies was most important, Rebecca also wanted to search for any other information about the League of Darkness and its plans. Anything that she could find to pass on to Chatsworth and damage Count Gregory's work would be worth the risk.

Phileas listened at the door to the barn before easing it open just far enough for them to slip through. They stood still for a moment, to be sure they were alone, then Passepartout cautiously lit the small lantern he carried.

"There!" cried Jules in a whisper, and indeed, the fateful machine was partially unpacked by the far wall. The three men sprinted across the barn to examine it.

"Are you sure you know how to work this thing?" Fogg asked skeptically.

Jules went to the control panel. "I…I think so," he answered, studying the dials and buttons intently. "Let's see, he set this one and this one looks like it would…"

"Hush!" commanded Fogg suddenly. "Someone's coming! Passepartout, put out the light."

The barn plunged back into darkness and the three men felt their way cautiously to hide behind some large boxes. A moment later the barn door swung open and several men entered. From his hiding place, Jules recognized one of them as the scientist. He nudged Fogg and pointed. Fogg nodded his understanding and they watched as the group approached the equipment.

"The Count wants this operational in the morning," the scientist explained to the guards. "I will have to work for some time to have everything ready for him."

"But the Frenchman escaped," one guard said. "What will he do now?"

"The Count is still quite angry about that," the little man replied. "We had to pack up quickly to evacuate before anyone came back. One of the guards who failed to prevent his escape will be used instead. It is not the revenge the Count hoped for against those meddlers, but it will be a suitable punishment for the guard."

"You're lucky the Count isn't taking it out on you," the guard commented.

"I am the only one who knows how the machine works," he snapped. "Now," he added pointedly, "unless there are any more questions, I would like to get on with my work. You and you, stay and help me." He pointed to two of the guards, who nodded.

The others left the barn, closing the door behind them. Verne started to move, but Fogg stopped him and gestured that they should wait.

The young man nodded, "It will probably be best if we let him get the equipment ready first, anyway," he whispered.

So the three men settled into their hiding places and watched the proceedings with great interest. Jules and Passepartout made a special effort to note what the scientist was doing so they would be able to run the machine. Phileas shifted slightly in order to also watch the door and listen for signs of other people approaching.


	14. Chapter 14

- 14 -

Meanwhile, back at the manor, Rebecca and Terrence quietly explored each room until they found what was obviously a planning room, with several maps and journals. Rebecca didn't want the Count to know his plans had been discovered, so rather than take anything she quickly jotted down notes of what she saw. Robertson stayed by the door, keeping it open just a crack to watch for guards.

Meanwhile, back at the manor, Rebecca and Terrence quietly explored each room until they found what was obviously a planning room, with several maps and journals. Rebecca didn't want the Count to know his plans had been discovered, so rather than take anything she quickly jotted down notes of what she saw. Robertson stayed by the door, keeping it open just a crack to watch for guards.

She had been writing for some time when he suddenly whispered urgently, "Hide!" She'd already picked a place just in case, and now darted behind some tall cabinets that had been shoved aside to make room for the large table. Terrence dashed to a place as well a split second before the door opened. Rebecca shuddered at the sound of Count Gregory's chair entering the room. If they were discovered now, it would surely be the end for all of them.

But the madman wasn't expecting any trouble and went straight to the table. Several of his lieutenants were with him, and Rebecca listened carefully as he discussed his plans. It soon became obvious that he still planned to switch bodies with someone, for he spoke gleefully about what he would do once he was on his feet again. From his comments, she gathered that he had no idea of what had happened between his two enemies. She reflected wryly to herself that the Count probably would have found that even more amusing than Chatsworth had. Since one of his first priorities seemed to be murdering the Foggs, preferably followed by the Queen, Rebecca realized that destroying the machine would have to come even at the expense of reversing Phileas and Jules. She fervently hoped that it would not come to that.


	15. Chapter 15

- 15 -

Time seemed to drag now. The men in the barn watched and listened as the scientist and guard finished unpacking the machine and set it up. There was quite a mess of packing materials, which one guard swept to the side. Phileas measured the distance to it and considered using the pile as a hiding place in order to be closer to the machine when the chance came. Jules strained to catch every movement and comment the scientist made. Passepartout, who had not napped in the afternoon with the others, found himself nodding off in spite of his best efforts.

In the house, Rebecca was trying to memorize everything the Count said since she had no opportunity to write it down. She hoped he would leave so she could get another look at the maps on his desk and note down locations of his other hideouts, but he remained in the room with his lieutenants. It was becoming uncomfortable to stay perfectly still in her hiding space, but she daren't shift for fear of being heard. She was relieved when he eventually completed his instructions and they left the room. She waited another minute or two to be sure and then carefully eased out from behind the cabinets. A moment later Robertson joined her and she began to write down what they'd heard.


	16. Chapter 16

- 16 -

Finally, as dawn was beginning to creep over the hills, the scientist finished his preparations.

"There," he said tiredly. "Everything is in order. When the Count comes we will be ready to make the transformation immediately. I must go and make my report to him."

Phileas waited for a couple of minutes after the League members left the barn and then signaled to Jules and Passepartout. They hurried to the machine.

"Can you operate it now?" he asked.

"I think the controls are set," Verne replied, "but Passepartout will have to activate the machine once we're in the seats."

Passepartout was a little alarmed. He didn't want to admit that he'd dozed during the night, but he couldn't risk doing something wrong with so much at stake.

"Perhaps," he suggested tentatively, "Master Jules could go over it with me one time - just for being sure."

Verne nodded. "Good idea," he agreed. He and Passepartout began to discuss the various switches and settings on the machine.

Meanwhile, Phileas explored the barn. He hoped to find some clues to the Count's other plans, or perhaps find some ways to inconvenience the Count by sabotaging other equipment. The three men were so intent on their tasks they failed to hear anyone approaching until it was too late. The barn doors swung open to reveal the scientist and three more guards.

One of the guards leapt towards Phileas, who was closest to the door. The other two guards quickly engaged Jules and Passepartout, while the scientist hung back out of the way. Convinced that they intended to wreck his equipment, he began to edge slowly around the fighting toward the machine.

Phileas was having a hard time of it. He was handicapped by being in a body that did not have the trained reflexes he was used to, and the guard was considerably larger than he was. He underestimated his reach and his punch barely grazed the man, who promptly grabbed him. The two men grappled back and forth, then Phileas' foot slipped and they both crashed sideways into the scientist. The blow knocked him into the wall, rendering him unconscious. Phileas scrambled to his feet and jumped on the guard before he could get up.

Across the barn, Passepartout dodged behind a box and grabbed a plank of wood, waving it threateningly at his opponent. Jules ducked a punch and aimed a blow at the other man, vowing to himself to take Rebecca up on her offer of fighting lessons if he made it out of there. He didn't quite avoid the next hit and the strike to his shoulder threw him off balance. The guard pressed his advantage while Jules tried desperately to recover. Suddenly the guard crumpled to the ground and Jules looked up to see Passepartout standing there with the board in his hand.

"Is a good weapon, no?" the valet smiled. The two turned just in time to see Phileas finally knock out his opponent. He sat back on his heels for a moment and gathered himself. First he went and carefully shut the open barn doors, then hurried over to them.

"For God's sake," he said. "Let's get this done before anyone else comes in."

With no time to waste now, Jules and Phileas quickly sat in the seats and fitted the metal helmets on their heads. Passepartout muttered a short French prayer under his breath and pressed the button. The metal coils blazed briefly and both men jerked, then were still. His hands shook slightly as he carefully removed Fogg's helmet, then Verne's. Reaching into his pocket, he removed the bottle of smelling salts, glad that its careful wrapping had prevented breakage. Cautiously, almost afraid to do so, he waved the bottle under Fogg's nose. After a moment, the figure stirred and opened his eyes.

"Master?" Passepartout asked hesitantly.

The man sighed and then smiled. "Yes, Passepartout." He glanced to his side. "See to Verne."

Delighted and relieved, Passepartout hastened to do so. Jules groaned and looked up. "Am I me now?" he asked, still a little dazed. Then he saw Fogg and grinned. Standing up, he stepped toward his friend. "I…"

"No, get away from there!" At the sudden interruption, the three turned to see the scientist stagger to his feet. Jules started to speak, but the man rushed at him, hands outstretched. "You mustn't - you won't…" He was incoherent in his rage. Phileas moved to intercept him before he reached Jules. The man didn't slow down at all, however, and Phileas twisted aside at the last moment to avoid him.

Unable to stop his momentum, the scientist crashed into his machine. Verne moved instinctively to pull him off but Fogg stopped him just in time. A bright shower of sparks flew up and then the machine exploded into flames.


	17. Chapter 17

- 17 -

In the house, Rebecca had found some particularly interesting papers detailing certain operations the League had in America, and she and Robertson were hurriedly taking notes. In their absorption they didn't hear anyone approaching and at the rattle of the doorknob they looked up in alarm. There was no time to reach their hiding places. But before they could react, there was sudden shouting outside. To their relief, the door, open barely an inch, closed again.

"Quick," Robertson urged. "Let's get out of here while we can."

Rebecca nodded. "We need to see if Phileas and the others need help," she said.

Moving as quickly as caution would allow, they made their way back through the kitchen and outside. Once there they saw why they'd encountered no-one in the house. The barn was ablaze, surrounded by men trying to put out the flames. The Count was there as well, shouting directions.

"Phileas!" Rebecca cried. Robertson caught her as she headed toward the barn.

"No," he said, pulling her away to the woods. "If they're in there we can't help them. Come." Rebecca fought against him, but in the end he managed to drag her across the yard. Finally she realized that he was right and ran with him to the sheltering trees. Fortunately they were not seen in the confusion surrounding the fire.

She leaned against a tree to catch her breath and stared at the fire. "They must have gotten out," she whispered hoarsely, "They must."

"Rebecca?"

She whipped around. It was Verne, followed a little ways behind by Fogg, supporting a limping Passepartout. They were all filthy and soot-covered, but undeniably alive.

"Jules!" she exclaimed, rushing towards him. She pulled up short, however and caught his hands in hers. Peering into his face she asked, "Is it you?"

"Yes," he said simply and found himself engulfed in a hug. He closed his eyes for a moment and hugged her back. Then she turned to the others.

"Passepartout - you're hurt?"

"Is nothing," he attempted to shrug but the movement made him wince. Verne and Robertson stepped forward and relieved Fogg of his burden.

"We'll start for the horses," Terrence said tactfully.

Phileas' eyes met Rebecca's and he stepped towards her. For a moment they just stared at each other, their eyes saying more than words ever would. Then he caught her in a crushing hug which she returned with equal fervor.

"When I saw the barn…" she whispered and he felt her tremble slightly.

"Passepartout pushed me out of the way of a falling timber," he said. "I owe him my life - again."

"We'll baby him properly once we get back to London," she replied, feeling light-hearted with relief. Then she frowned a little. "I wish it had been the Count in there. We'll still have to watch out for him building another machine and trading places with someone."

"No," he reassured her. "The man who built it died with it and we heard him say he was the only person who knew how to operate it."

"Then it's really over?" she began to smile.

"Yes, it's over - at least for now. Let's go home."

Phileas returned Rebecca's smile and put his arm around her waist as they went to join the others.

FINI

2


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